December 6, 1989
by Dark Horse Writer
Summary: Balthazar Blake woke up that morning thinking something wasn't right, not at all. Warning T for: violence, ideological sensitive material  alternate lifestyles, and mention of alchohol. Written for Katyori's challenge for the Montreal Massacre.


**AN: This is a really dark story for me with a purpose. This story is in response to a challenge/request to write a story for the anniversary of the Montreal Massacre in 1989 set by ****Kaytori****. I have some material in here that ****I never normally do****. Thanks to my awesome Beta-reader ****Arlothia**** (my earlier version that I had up was sadly not beta read, I had some confusion with Arlothia. This version however is fully beta-read). **

**Rating T (PG-15+):**** For violence, ideological sensitive material (alternate lifestyles), and a scene of rape (no graphic details! It is implied by dialogue (this is a bit of a spoiler, but it is foiled so nothing happens in the end)), mention of AIDS, and mention of alcohol. If you are not comfortable with this, please do not read. **

**Please review and be kind. I do not want flames about the material. ****This is a piece set to know that there is still violence against woman. From domestic violence (including rape), to prejudice of alternate lifestyles, as well as feminists. I also wrote this piece as part social commentary for how we as people need to realize we need to be there for one another. I do realize a lot of people read fanfiction to be fun and fluffy, but writers can also write to make a statement. This is the same, regardless if this is fanfiction. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own **_**The Sorcerer's Apprentice**_**. I am just writing this for fun as well as a social commentary on how we need to fight violence against woman in all aspects.**

**I welcome reviews otherwise. Please tell me what you think and honestly. You will be rewarded with digital cookies, cakes, and pies. Enjoy!**

December 6, 1989 New York City….

Something was off.

Balthazar Blake woke up that morning thinking something wasn't right, not right at all. There was something in the air that spoke of something coming; an omen. He couldn't place what, though. He couldn't even fathom why all of a sudden he had gotten up. It was still dark outside, and it was lightly raining. He could hear the light drops on the window in his little bedroom on the second floor of the _Arcana Cabana_. He got up and looked at the little clock that he had.

5:00 AM

Or in other words…

Way too early.

He knew he probably wouldn't be able to go back to sleep since he was already up at this ungodly hour. He sighed. So much for sleeping in. As he got up he started feeling chills down his spine and his fingers. It wasn't the type of chills that were usually associated with the flu or some other kind of ailment.

He knew it wasn't AIDS, even though he wished he could help with the disease and the negativity surrounding it. But it wasn't his duty to. He blew out a long sigh and threw his head into his somewhat too-old pillow. He should probably get a new one, but doesn't really matter in the long run.

One would think that being a sorcerer of the 777th degree would come with many advantages. Hiding who you truly were because you were a man out of time (_way out of time_) wasn't one of them. In all sense of the world he should be dead, yet he was here under a spell that stopped his aging until Morgana La Fay was defeated and the Prime Merlinian found.

He put on a pair of dark brown and black pinstriped trousers, a murky maroon tunic, a dark grey green and vest, and his favorite dark grey arm warmers as well as the numerous rings he wore. It was rather chilly outside, not that he was going out this moment. The chills came back. The chills travelled along his body, his neck, and his back; always a tingling sensation, which heightened his sense of what was going on around him.

He thought back to a time when Merlin, his former master, had told him that sometimes chosen sorcerers, for one reason or another, would have a feeling of chills before some unspeakable event. Balthazar was sitting down on his bed after he finished getting ready and thought about that day. Could this be one of those moments? If it was, he rather hoped that he would be able to stop whatever was going to happen. Or...

Was this a sign that he would finally discover the identity of the Prime Merlinian?

He really hoped the latter. He really didn't want to wait any longer, even though he was known for his infinite patience. But even he had his limits.

A thousand years weighed on his mind and it was stressful. To know you had the power to help thousands, and yet…you could help, what? Maybe a few dozen civilians? One couldn't use the art to help with illnesses that were killing hundreds. One couldn't help others to gain more food. At one time the world welcomed sorcery. Now…

It was an afterthought, considered lunacy and craziness. People paid money to see _magicians_ do cheap parlor tricks and they are amazed at that. Real magic, on the other hand, people forgot about. But some did not. Kids believed in it. He would always smile when he was at the bookstore and saw kids get into "Arthurian Legends," not knowing how real those legends are. Sadly though, the parents of those kids had a different idea.

They wanted them to forget those _ridiculous fairy tales_ and to grow up. That there was no such thing. There was no Oz, no white rabbit to lead down the rabbit hole. There was no Middle-earth, no Narnia, no witches, no wizards, or even no sorcerers. How wrong they were. Maybe the majority of those assumptions were correct, but the last part was not. But he couldn't save the people from all the problems they created from war to poverty to the grotesqueness of the Holocaust (_that event_ still gives him shivers). Maybe he should think he was lucky that he was in the United States at that time. If that could be considered lucky.

The times were tough and he was sitting in his room on the second floor of the _Arcana_ _Cabana_ with a strange set of chills going down his body. He shook his head and after brushing his teeth and brushing his disheveled curly hair to the best of his ability (not that it weighed heavily on his mind on how his hair looked), he got going. He went to the little kitchen on the top part of his store to get some tea going.

As the water was heating up Balthazar staggered back as an intense feeling filled his body near his heart. It wasn't a heart attack, he knew that from the start. The pain was intense and felt like a strong pressure had come in contact with his body, like a thousand pounds of pressure exerted into his chest. He gasped and looked to see what happened. There was nothing. No blood, no wound, and the pain left as soon as it came. The pain was reminiscent of …

A gunshot to the chest.

Balthazar's blood went cold. From the chills and the pain in his chest, Balthazar knew they were the affects someone would feel if they got shot by a gun. Balthazar feared that this event would be a murder; of one person or more he was not sure. But he was going to make sure it did not happen. Not on his watch. Too much tragedy had passed already. Screw what he was supposed to do. Part of his job was to protect man, and how far had he gotten? Not far at all.

A few hours had passed since his abrupt wakening at five in the morning and the sudden pain in his chest. He believed the chills were going to stop once whatever event the chills were warning him had passed. His breakfast earlier was meager to say the least. He had to go out today and get some more groceries. The little oatmeal he had was not going to cut it. The other reason to go out was to find and stop the event the chills were foreboding. He wouldn't be able to deal with himself if he knew he had a warning of the event in the present and didn't do anything about it.

When he put on his black scarf and grabbed his black leather rawhide duster and hat, the chills continued. The chills went through his hands and into his fingers. He looked up at his clock in his main store and saw that it was eight o'clock a.m. He hoped that the local grocery would be open by now. He didn't go to those twenty four-hour places. The more out of the way the better. Besides, he liked fresh vegetables better than the ones that turned brown, which he found out tended to be at those twenty-four hour places.

As he was walking down the street to go to the usual family-owned grocer, he noticed there was a young woman with a load of books in her arms. She didn't have a backpack on her where normally such books would be.

Balthazar could see that she was three steps away from slipping on the ice patch and she wouldn't be able to see it with all those books she was carrying. He was one step away when he saw her stumble and was able to make sure she didn't hit the hard New York pavement and snow.

He grabbed her small frame right as her heel came into contact with the ice patch. She slipped and fell into his, albeit cold, calloused hands. He warmed them up just a tad with a little help of some magic. The young woman gasped and her books tumbled away from her as soon as she lost her balance.

She looked at the predicament she was in. Balthazar gently got her back up on her feet. He saw that she was wearing dark blue jeans and had a multitude of layers on in this brisk weather, the last layer being a red coat that came down to her knees. He saw that she wore glasses and that they had fallen off her face. He grabbed them and gave them back to her.

"Miss, do you want some help?" he asked.

As he looked around with the books scattered all over the place, she nodded and he went to the farthest area the books had landed near a trashcan and saw the cover. It was a biography on Marie Curie. He also saw another book and it looked like a chemistry textbook of some kind. He quirked his eyebrow. He knew who Marie Curie was. She and her husband had done a lot of good work in the field of chemistry.

Even though in more modern times (and he used modern a little differently than most people did) the interests of women in that time from the 1800's and on astounded him. Even more currently, here was a young lady majoring in chemistry, when he had known many people to believe that women could not do those sorts of subjects. Where math, physics, chemistry, and even politics were concerned, women in this time were at the height of what they could accomplish. At one time, women were considered only to be housewives, mothers, teachers, or some other stereotypical job.

Back in his time, women were considered very little. Of course that was different with Merlin. Merlin did not care about having a female apprentice in the art and had taught her to read, write, speak different languages, and all the other subjects that he and Maxim had studied. He sighed when he thought about his former best friend turned enemy who, at the moment, was locked inside the grimhold. He grimaced but shook it off and tried to push those memories aside to keep his thoughts on the present.

"Thank you." Balthazar looked back to the girl where she had all her other books and he brought the other two over. She looked relieved when she saw that she could have really injured herself if he hadn't been there to catch her fall.

"You're welcome. Don't you have a backpack or a book bag of some kind for your books?" he asked, wondering where this young woman's common sense was. That or he was impressed that the woman had the dignity to walk in this weather and carry a rather large load of books.

"I wasn't going to be long. I just needed to grab some of these books to work on my report for my college class. I'm a chemistry major, as you can see." She pointed to all the books she had in her hands. She indicated the building which she lived in and he helped her to go inside while carrying some of her books. She seemed to remember her manners and thanked him for saving her from the ice and helping to collect her books. Once inside the building, however, things were very different. His chills had come back, and they were sharp. The chills flowed throughout his body and his fingertips, a feeling that something was about to happen.

A tall man, elderly looking but probably in his mid forties, came into the hall and saw the young woman whose name he found out was Erica. The young woman, Erica, was about to open the door to her apartment when out of nowhere the man punched the young woman in the side. She staggered and Balthazar tried to hold her up so she wouldn't fall.

"Feminist!" the older man yelled as he had punched Erica. She looked aghast and held her side while Balthazar positioned himself to be in front of her. The man in question was looking at the two of them. There was rage in the man's eyes.

_Why __had__ this man punch her?_ Was his immediate thought, along with making sure that Erica was okay. As he was pondering this he looked at Erica to see how she fared. She had tears going down her face. He would make sure that this man would not lay another hand on some unsuspecting victim, especially Erica. He steeled his eyes. This man, out of nowhere, had punched a woman who did nothing to him. She was just minding her own business and he had the audacity to punch her. This made his blood boil.

"Sir, I would kindly ask you as to why you punched this nice young woman here." Erica was looking between the man in question and the man who helped her with a scared expression on her face. Her eyes were lowered to the violent man's belt. Balthazar followed her gaze and saw a large bump on his left side. There was a brown case and out of the case a black handle. It looked like a…

NO

Balthazar was hoping this was not the moment. The man looked at him and then glared at Erica.

"This has nothing to do with you. Leave this stupid feminist alone and get out before I call the cops for you breaking an entering," What was with this guy? Erica looked extremely scared and the guy had taken out his gun and had it pointed at Erica. She was trembling and was spouting at the man not to kill her. The man on the other hand was _proud_ to see her display.

Balthazar saw red, but before he acted impulsively he heard the man say, "Women only have one place and that is below men; not getting all smarter than men or taking their professions." So this was what it was all about. The guy did not like that Erica liked chemistry. Calling it a so-called a "men's profession." Even though he grew up during what people now referred to as the time of the Anglo-Saxons, he knew this guy needed to get with the times. He knew even in his time that chivalry was not always common, but he had had it with this guy. He believed himself to be better because he was in a position of power. Granted the guy didn't know any better, but the real person in power was Balthazar.

"Put the gun down sir. And for your information I did not break an entering. She let me…" The guy had the gun pointed at Erica and it was at this point that Balthazar saw that and used his magic to unload the gunpowder. His ring glowed ominously as the powder fell out and the bullets as well. The man starred at him and his now empty pistol gun. Balthazar punched the man. The guy blacked out after the well aimed punch in the gut and his head hit the marble floor, effectively making him rather incapacitated. Erica, all the while, was shaking and looking at the scene from the sidelines. She was very quiet as she took in the events that surrounded her.

"Are you okay?" he said lightly with sympathy in his bluish eyes. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her body was shaking slightly. To be honest this scene could have turned out a lot worse for her.

"I thought he was out for good. A-a-and thank you for everything." She opened the door to her apartment which was on the ground floor and put her books on a side table.

"Who was that man, or should I say despicable creature of a man? By the way, you should probably call the police and tell them what happened." Erica nodded. He saw that in the apartment she had posters of the table of elements as well as posters of "Rosie the Riveter".

"His name is Mark Sheltersen. He was a tenant for a while until he was thrown out because of his anti-feminist views. I didn't think he was allowed back here. Before he left, from what I heard, he never acted out in violence, only said he was going to act brutally." Balthazar saw that Erica had grabbed a cup of water and had offered some to him as well. He didn't want any so he refused politely.

He watched as Erica called the NYPD to tell them about the incident. She left out the fact Balthazar punched the guy and said that, out of self defense, she had punched him. Balthazar was thankful for that little lie. However, Balthazar made sure that Mark was still blacked out. It helped that he had use a little magic to make sure the guy was knocked out till the cops came.

He made sure Erica was going to be alright. She said that her friends were going to be over soon since she had called them after calling the cops and told them what had happened. Apparently her friends were very concerned for her and talked to her professors to make sure it would be okay if she missed classes for the day.

He was about to walk out of the building once the police arrived and took away Mark Sheltersen when Erica stopped him. "Mr. Blake, what you did for me today…thank you. You were my knight in shining armor." Balthazar had to shake his head as he gave her a small smile. She was a nice young woman, and wasn't too far off the mark either.

"You're welcome Erica. Are you sure you are going to be okay for the rest of the day?" Erica nodded her head. He knew that from a lot of people's views, in a lot of regards, it would be a little weird for a simple stranger like him to help her, but he thought differently. In a world that was constantly changing, at times people seemedto be forgetting to help one another. He also pondered as to why the man who was called Mark would go so far as to hit a young woman for choosing a different career path than what he though was right. In this modern world people still had ill-conceived thoughts.

Even back in his day he never agreed with what people thought about women. He sighed as he walked away from the building and saw a group of young men and women walk up to Erica. He heard exclamations and her friends acting like little mother hens over their friend. At least she was in good company. He couldn't say the same about himself.

Balthazar had thought that the incident with Erica was what the chills were warning him of. That he had to save the young woman's life from the man with the gun. How wrong he was. The chills were still there after the incident and came back every so often. Not as sharp, but still there in his awareness. As he checked his pocket watch he saw that the time was 10:30 AM. His stomach growled, knowing that he hadn't eaten much for awhile. That and the events earlier had brought his stomach to alert him that he needed more energy. He decided that there was some food in his future.

He walked right around the corner and saw that there was a little French bakery and beside it a little out-of-the-way bookstore. He went inside the bakery to grab not only some Earl Grey tea, but he saw that they had a particular croissant he was partial to. Once he paid he took a bite into it. Not as good as the pastries in Paris, France, but in the U.S it was one of the better ones. Of course his comparison was from the early 1800's and that wasn't saying much. He sat down in one of the corner tables and finished his croissant. Afterwards he entered the small bookshop and went over to their "classics" section.

He perused the section looking at the titles of William Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Geoffrey Chaucer, Leo Tolstoy, and many other authors. He picked up a copy of _Anna Karenina_. He hadn't read this book in over a hundred years when he had first heard of it. He was about to read the first line again when the chills started back up. They just seemed to come and go. It was like the feeling from earlier that day when his chest felt like it got hit with a bullet. The pressure increased and he gave a gasp of surprise. He staggered back and breathed heavily. While this episode occurred the elderly bookshop owner saw his distress.

"Sir, are you okay?" He waved her off as the feeling disappeared. He already knew the chills were telling him something, and the feeling in his chest was yet another warning.

He was starting to think that maybe this wasn't magic induced but then he saw that his ring shone a faint green. He cursed silently. It was indeed magic related. Even though he waved the elder bookshop owner away she still stood there, imposing with short white hair with a long, yet stern, face. She was wearing a long tan skirt and a white blouse. For a second she reminded him of an older version of a school teacher who had taught in the West during the Oregon Trail times.

"I'm fine Miss…" He was about to ask her name when she cut him off.

"Mrs. Adams." She saw that he was holding _Anna Karenina _in his hand and smiled.

"You're a Leo Tolstoy fan?" He wasn't exactly a fan but the novel was well written, even if it did take a long time to read. He was more of an early English type of reader, but some American literature appealed to him (Ray Bradbury for example). Then there was J.R.R Tolkien, but he wasn't American…and that was a story for another time.

"Not exactly, but I do like his work," he said evenly and put the book back on the rack when he heard the door bells ring, letting the owner know there was another customer. But he heard tears and a lot of sniffling as well and some cursing from another voice. His eyebrows shot up. He didn't want to pry, so he opened the book, hiding his intrigued face, and began to read (although he wasn't really looking at the words) to see how this would play out.

"Mrs. Adams you won't believe it." He heard some scuffling from two women, much younger than Mrs. Adams, and saw that one girl was in tears. From what he could see there was a long red mark on her neck. It looked like a scratch. His eyes hardened.

"We were walking along the street, talking about the woman's suffrage movement for our women's studies class and what we could do for our project. We were just talking and holding hands at the time. I just gave her a chaste kiss on the lips and this guy comes out and starts talking to us." A girl with reddish orange hair said this. Balthazar decided to creep closer. This wasn't any of his business but he had an idea of what was going to be said next.

"When the guy saw us holding hands and heard that we were talking about the women's suffrage movement he started talking about how women are ruining the world and all that nonsense. Then Carol, being who she is, starts talking about how much good has come from woman's actions, especially Eleanor Roosevelt and her participation in the UN. So this guy gets an angry glint in his eye and the next thing I know he scratches Carol and tries to punch me! Then he yells at us for being Lesbos and that it was against God's will for us to be together and all that none sense." He heard Mrs. Adams call the girl Cassidy.

All the while Mrs. Adams looked mad but she turned to Carol and gave her a pat on the back. He then saw that Mrs. Adams was whispering into her ear and then Carol and Cassidy walked around passed him. They stopped as they saw that he was in the store and excused themselves as they went through a back door that most likely led to an apartment. Mrs. Adams saw that he was still there. She was very quiet.

"I'm sorry" he said. Mrs. Adams looked at him and sighed.

"I am sorry you had to see that. The audacity of some people. I know my daughter chose an alternate lifestyle, but she is still my daughter and I love her for who she is. Why the guy attacked her is beyond me. Actually don't answer that I know why he attacked her, but I don't get why there's all this prejudice. It does not make any sense. But you know, people will be people." She shook her head. He agreed with her sentiments, but at times he really started to wonder if his help really even mattered anymore. He shook his head. Those thoughts should not be plaguing his mind.

He was starting to get the idea. He wasn't naïve to think that the world had changed so much for women, but he would like to believe that outright violence against women and their own choices would be much less than it used to be. What did it matter if one woman loved another woman? It was different, yes, but people made these huge assumptions that it was morally wrong when in all reality they had no control over who they were attracted to.

"Do you need any help?" he queried. Mrs. Adams shook her head in a manner that suggested she was thankful for the gesture but would handle things just fine.

"You're not going to get _Anna Karenina_?" Before Balthazar stepped out of the store he shook his head and headed out into the brisk weather. By the time he was a block and half away he forgot about his tea, but shrugged it off.

Today he had witnessed two events against women. One for the fact that the young lady was a student of chemistry and the other because she had chosen an alternate lifestyle. He knew that the age of chivalry was dead but at times like this he really wish it would make another appearance. He walked on. Maybe the parents of this generation were wrong about magic. These kids needed something to believe in with a world that was so cruel.

Balthazar wondered how in a single day he could see two events unfold against women who were doing nothing but minding their own business. It was getting close to lunch and he remembered that he was supposed to get groceries. But his quest to find the source as to why he was getting the chills was foremost on his mind.

He kept on walking when he passed an elementary school. It must have been an early dismissal day because he saw a lot of kids around the school talking and the like. But a lot of them were leaving. He was just passing by when he heard a young boy's voice.

"My daddy says girls can't do that!" Balthazar quirked his eyebrows and slowed down his pace. He was next to a newspaper stand and grabbed the current edition of the _New York Times_ to cover up his spying. He really should not be paying attention to the matters of children, but the chills had returned. He knew it was a sign now that he should stop, but he wanted to make sure nothing would turn violent. These were kids; young, school-aged kids. They should be playing, laughing, and pretending.

"My mommy and daddy told me I can do whatever I put my mind too! When I told my mom and dad I wanted to fly they told me that maybe I could become the next Amelia Earnhardt when I get older! Why would your dad say that girls can't do that?" Balthazar quirked a smile. He did find it impressive that one woman used the invention of the plane to make the first transatlantic journey, and the first female at that. He remembered the event fondly. He remembered what it was like to fly a plane once, though that was a while back.

He turned the page in the newspaper, and when he dipped the paper down to do so he noticed the boy had black hair and was a little pudgy. The girl had light blonde locks and was wearing a pink jumper with grey leggings. She looked like she had blue eyes as far as he could see.

"Well your mommy and daddy are stupid. My daddy told me girls are nothing, that there place is in the kitchen. My dad is the man of the house and lets my mom know that. I agree with him. He says when mom is being bad she gets punished, and that she deserves it. I hear her screams all the time, and I know that she learned her lesson. My dad says when I grow up that I should marry a woman who is more obedient than my mom. Someone to control." The boy was smiling. Balthazar had seen some blood boiling events today, but this was far worse.

The boy was talking about his own mother as she was nothing and relishing in the thought of her abuse! The boy wasn't sad at all. He held no remorse in his eyes. Not only was this gut wrenching, it was the sort of thoughts that made his teeth clench on their own accord and he felt his power sizzle in his finger tips. He really needed to calm down and not be so hasty.

He saw red again. This was far worse than anything he had seen. Children should be children, but this was cruelty to talk about such things like they were nothing. The girl on the opposite side looked like she was about to go into tears and the boy teased her for it. He would have done something then and there but he stopped when the girl spoke up again.

"Why would your daddy do that? That seems like a bad thing your daddy is doing. I think your daddy is stupid for treating your mommy like that." The boy then did something Balthazar never expected from a school aged boy. He took out a plastic knife, took the girls hand, and ran the knife across her wrist. Although the knife wasn't that sharp it did leave a nasty scratch.

It was then that Balthazar knew that he had to do something because the adults around were too preoccupied with their own business. This enraged him while the adults around them were playing with their own pagers or talking about stocks, here were two kids; one being abusive by the other. Much more than playground bullying.

He threw down the newspaper and walked up (rather ran up) to the boy, who was about to scratch the girl again. The girl tried pushing the boy away but he held onto her hand. Balthazar stopped the boy by getting down on his hunches and holding the boy back from the girl. The boy was trying to go at the girl still, but he stopped him.

"Let me at her! She insulted my dad!" Balthazar held him as far away from the girl as he could. The girl was staring at him with wide eyes. He decided the boy needed a little lesson. He saw a few pigeons on the sidewalk and looked at the boy then back at the pigeons. His ring glowed an ominous green-yellow color and before the boy knew it, a bunch of pigeons flew at him, pecking at him. Balthazar let him go and boy ran off screaming.

The girl looked at the whole exchange eyes still wide. She had tripped earlier but hadn't gotten up. He could see tears streaming down her cheeks. He saw that her ankle was swollen and put his hand on her ankle and healed it with magic. The girl continued to stare at him.

"Are you alright?" The girl was super quiet and he noticed the scratch her wrist. He took her delicate hand gently. At first she resisted, which is understandable, but he healed her wrist and the pain she had been feeling went away. The nasty red scratch from the plastic knife was now no more than a faint scar.

When she saw her wrist she looked up at him and said, "Your Gandalf, except with no beard." He had to do a double take. That was an odd but a…likeable comparison. He looked at her with a smile.

"What makes you think that?" he said. She chewed on her lip. Her eyes were still red rimmed with tears but they were getting less red and swollen now that she had stopped.

"Because Gandalf never let the bad guys do anything bad if he didn't have anything to say about it." Her words got stronger towards the end. He helped her stand up. He could see that a young man (at least to his eyes) came running down the street and looked between the two of them. He could still hear far off yells and looked to see that the pigeons were still attacking the boy. The man did not look happy to see him with his daughter. Balthazar saw how this looked but he hoped that the girl would be able to speak for herself.

"Daddy, this man saved me from Tommy. Tommy attacked me Daddy!" Her tears came back and his heart ached. The man frowned and looked at him. Balthazar made the connection that the little pudgy boy was named Tommy.

"Is this true sir? That my daughter was attacked by a classmate of hers?" He had a deep frown that was bordering on rage. He knew the man had all the reason to be that way. He nodded.

"Thank you. I feel awful that I couldn't get out earlier from my meeting. Is there something I could do for you in return?" Balthazar staggered a little.

"I think talking with the school board and tell them what happened would be the best course of action. I think that's what you can do for me. But I think your daughter should be your first priority." Balthazar said, but the father had a deep frown.

"Tommy's parents are very influential, at least his father is. My daughter has been talking to me about how she wanted to go to another school. I think this might be the correct time to do so." Balthazar wholeheartedly agreed. People with power were not going to be swayed. He walked away from the third violent act that he had seen that day.

This whole day was getting to him much harder than the last few years had ever done. Three separate events before lunch. He looked at his pocket watch and saw that it was nearing lunchtime. He decided that he had walked far enough and wandered into an alley. When nobody was watching he teleported close to the store where he brought groceries from. He hoped that the chills would disappear, but he was sadly mistaken yet again.

He received his groceries and brought them up to the _Arcana Cabana_ and saw that the clock read 12:45 PM. He whisked his groceries up the second floor kitchen and put everything away. He took out some bakery artisan bread as well as some turkey and ham to make himself a sandwich for lunch. He also decided to make a cup of coffee because he really needed it.

He looked around in the cupboards and eyed the whisky wearily. It was one of those days, and normally he wasn't the one to have a lot of alcohol. It was tempting but he decided against it. It wasn't even five o'clock yet.

He spread some mayonnaise and spicy brown mustard onto the bread and grabbed a few sliced of deli turkey and ham. He opened his fridge to find some lettuce and a few tomatoes and prepared them for his sandwich. While he was cutting his tomatoes, the chills came back in the knife hand and it seared with a pain as if he had somehow cut himself. But when he looked down there was no cut or blood to be seen. He put the knife down. The pain disappeared as fast as it had come, exactly like the pains in his chest earlier.

This was a new development.

So, the chilling sensations were not passed. And from the chest pains and the searing pain he felt on the top of his hand told him that whatever this event was would not only involve a gun but a knife as well. He slammed his hands down upon the countertop in frustration. Why couldn't he ever be at peace! He had lived over a thousand years to search for Merlin's heir. And now this?

He was chosen yet again to try and stop some unspeakable tragedy from happening. The pain and searing sensations told him that it would come to pass soon, as soon as today, too. The chills kept coming after every incident since his day begun. From Erica to the bookstore to the elementary school kids. All he had wanted was some peace and to find the Prime Merlinian. But that was a completely different story for another time.

Besides, if that wasn't enough, he had to suffer every day that his one true love was in a prison that he had put her into. He would have yelled in frustration, and he was close to doing it, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to be in control. He would eat and then take a nap. He needed a way to take the stress off. Either that or read. He really should have gotten a book at the bookstore considering that he had nothing new to read for the past fifty years.

He really wanted peace. He was so tired. Tired for so many reasons. He poured the coffee that was now ready to be served and had it straight-up black. He finished cutting his tomatoes and put some slices on his sandwich and pulled off some lettuce leaves as well. He ate in silence and drank the warm coffee, feeling it run down his throat. The smooth black liquid soothed his throat and the acidic taste gave his mouth a zing. After this he would relax stay inside and keep warm.

But o course his thoughts ran amuck due to the earlier events. They had all dealt with woman and abuse. Balthazar was starting to get the idea that there was a connection between the chills and the events that had transpired. He realized he should have considered this earlier. Once he finished his sandwich he washed the dishes and finished his coffee. He went into what one could call a living room and sat on an old leather chair. There was a black and brown woolen blanket beside it and he opened up the blanket, put it on his lap, and lay on the chair, making it recline. He hoped that after this nap he could return to stopping whatever was going to happen. That is if it didn't come up again while he was sleeping.

Balthazar was napping until in his head he heard a piercing scream and woke up. He thought it was a nightmare but the scream seemed so real. It was from a female voice and it held a note of absolute terror in it. When he heard it again he knew it wasn't a dream. His body, again, was pierced with the chills that he had been having the entire day. He put his coat on and ran outside his shop in a haze. Instinctually he went around the corner, instinct driving him. He knew that something was going on and it was not far away.

As he was walking he heard the scream again. Why was it that nobody else heard this scream and were running off to investigate? He could hear sobs close by and stopped in his tracks when he heard a sickly, manly voice.

"You're so hot when you scream like that. It's a big turn on for me. That and you're crying. That just takes me over the edge. You are mine Gloria. You and your glorious body. You have a holier than thou attitude and it is time for you to learn who is really in control!" Balthazar could hear an air of predatory measure in the man's voice. He could hear large sobs coming from the woman followed by a thud. He could also hear a flurry of movement from what sounded like punches and some struggling. There was cursing as well as screams.

"Rob please. Stop!" The woman's voice was piercing and he heard more movement. He heard a tear from what seemed like someone ripping clothes…

NO NO NO!

All his thoughts about hiding who he was went outside the window. He didn't care anymore. He was not going to let anything happen, not while he had anything to say about it. He marched up and just as the man was about to have his way with her he used his magic to throw him against the back wall and walked with a purpose towards the prone figure.

The woman, Gloria, as he remembered her name to be, had her eyes closed and let out a shriek thinking the man was going to get what he wanted. But when she realized there was no one around her, she opened her eyes to find a man with a long black leather duster coat had a hand outstretched striding towards the far brick wall where her attacker was currently dangling in mid air against a it.

Rob, the man in question, wasn't the most attractive man ever. He had dirty brown hair and stubble on his face. His eyes were dark and for just a moment had held a predatory glee. But right now they held a lot of fear. Good. He wanted the man to be scared.

"What, may I ask, where your intentions towards that woman?" Balthazar asked with a voice as cold as ice with an edge of steel in it. He was not going to be forgiving. It was one thing to punch a woman, but what he was about to do was the worst possible thing a man could ever do.

Rob looked at him with a fearful gaze, but he wasn't going to relent so easily. He didn't answer the question. Balthazar, in all his life, would never even considered doing any dark magic. But if there was any time he had thought to do it, it was right now. He was very close to considering doing so many terrible things, Morganian things, with his magic to this despicable man.

His eyes held a barely restrained rage in them and he really had no time to deal with the likes of this guy. Instead, he went the more subtle route, at least what he believed was subtle, and less than this creature really deserved. But under no circumstances was he going to lower himself to the Morganians level.

He held the man to the wall and molded the bricks to wrap around the man's wrists and feet. The man was now attached to the wall. Balthazar walked up to him and whispered in his ear.

"I could do a thousand terrible things to you right now. Some of them even worst than death. But because you're not worth lowering my moral values I am going to give you clemency by erasing your thoughts of this woman as well as your entire despicable life. You'll be another person and maybe you will do some good for society." The man, who was scared out of his wits, was about to argue when Balthazar placed his hand on the man's forehead and the ring glowed a greenish yellowish color.

The man's eyes went into a daze and Balthazar removed the man from his prison. All the while, the woman all looked at the scene before her with wide eyes full of shock. The man, however, was lying in a heap on the ground. He would be out for awhile. It took a while for the spell to work but he wouldn't remember anything he had done, the woman, or the life he had previously led.

As Balthazar walked back to the woman, he could see the state of her clothes were not in good condition. He gave her his coat. She had a fearful gaze in her eyes but she allowed herself to be led into his shop under his protective arms. He didn't have a lot of extra clothes, and none of them women's, but he did have an extra blanket and gave it to her. She was still quiet. Her eyes roamed the store.

She looked around curiously and maybe it was his eyes playing tricks on her, but when she saw a lamp like the one in the stories she had a small smile on her face. Balthazar went upstairs to get some tea going. He half expected the woman to flee once he left. Not that he blamed her. She had gone through a terrible ordeal this afternoon.

He saw that it was a little after three forty in the afternoon when he went upstairs to fetch some tea for her. He had some citrus tea and added a little something extra: some herbs to comfort her nerves and to soothe her muscles. As he came back downstairs he saw that the woman was sitting on the stairs. He handed her the mug. She took it and smelled it. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile.

"How did you know?" Balthazar blinked. What was she referring to?

"Orange citrus is my favorite tea." She took a sip of it and her smile grew. "Thank you for…whatever it was you did." The first part was said in a soft voice, very feminine that was light and sweet but with a pang of hurt. The second part was said even softer.

"I didn't know. About the tea, that is. I just thought it would be good considering all things…" he said. He didn't make any tea for himself. He was still trying to reign in his barely concealed rage, but everything was done with. The woman was safe now. She looked down in the mug and looked around.

"Who are you?" she said finally. He wasn't sure if she was asking about what he'd done or was just asking for his name. She looked at him with a little more determination, but was hesitant, as if she was worried something still might happen to her. He gave her a soft smile to let her know that she was safe and he wouldn't mind anything she said.

"I mean what you did back there with R-R-Rob whey you threw him against the wall and then manipulating the bricks… That's not possible…is it?" The woman looked at him with a guarded expression as she drank her tea. Balthazar pondered how to answer this. Normally he was known to keep things subtle when it came to using magic in front of civilians, but this was something else entirely.

"What do you think?" Balthazar replied easily. He knew that she had seen everything, had taken in all that he had done. But instead of answering that question she asked,

"What did you do to Rob?" Of all the possible questions she wanted to know, she what to know what had happened to the guy who had been about to rape her. But did Rob at one point love her? He really hoped not.

"I erased his memory of you and his life. He'll wake up wondering where he is and make a new life for himself." She just sat there on the staircase looking forwards, the mug of tea in her hands, the blanket wrapped around her body. Balthazar saw that she had black hair and tan color skin. He was going to ask the question if at one point she did love him, but what she said he didn't expect.

"You used magic didn't you?" She was rather blunt but what else did he expect to hear. He was about to answer when the chilling sensation came back through his body. It was stronger than ever before. The pain in his chest made him stagger and he held onto the rail of the staircase to keep from falling. The woman, Gloria, looked at him with wide eyes.

He was breathing heavily and the pain in his hand returned as well. It was so intense, the feeling of the pressure on his chest, like a bullet entering his heart. The also came to new places, like a knife at his neck. The pain was so intense he thought at one point he was going to die. He didn't realize it then, but he blacked out. He didn't see the woman get off the stairs or hear her yells of alarm.

Balthazar woke up and found himself in a chair at the far corner of his store. He saw that the Gloria was still there and that his leather duster jacket was on top of him. The woman looked at him when she noticed he was awake. He saw that there were no scars on his body and there was no blood. His chest felt fine now. There were no more chills at all. Not even a faint memory of them. He shook his head and brought his head into his hands.

"Are you alright?" she asked. "You looked like you were having a heart attack." Her voice was still a little timid but he could see that she felt a little more confident with him for some strange reason.

"I'm fine, but somewhere I don't think other people are." He knew that the event which the chills had been predicting had passed and he hadn't stopped it. From his pocket watch he saw that it was a little after five o'clock in the afternoon. He could see that the woman was truly worried about him, which touched his heart. He decided to answer her question from earlier.

"Yes," he said. The woman looked at him, not quite sure what he had meant. So he continued. "Earlier you asked me if I used magic. Yes, I did. I'm a sorcerer," The woman was silent and looking at him with a cross between bewilderment, fear, and something else…hope. She didn't look at him like he was crazy or a nut. She accepted it. She just nodded.

"Are you good, or are you bad?" He looked up at her and he could see she was a little fearful. Earlier he must have looked rather scary, but his features softened up.

"Good." When he gave his answer he could see in her face there was relief from his answer.

"What happened?" He went on to explain what had been happening all day from the chills and pressure, to the events with Erica, the bookstore, the school kids, and then finally about her own predicament. Her look was somewhere between bewilderment and awe.

He wasn't sure if he really should have told her all of this and should erase the entire event from her memory. A part of him thought that she needed this memory. Not the terrible part where Rob almost had his way with her, but the good part, of her being saved by magic. Some would see him like he was a guardian angel of sorts, not that he believed it, but he understood the sentiment.

All the while he offered to let her have a shower while he mended her clothing. She accepted. He used his magic to fix her clothes so there were no rips or anything and left them by the bathroom. He was downstairs when she came out all clean and dressed in clothes that were not ripped or dirty. She sat down by the store counter. He was leaning on the glass case with his elbows with his head in his hands. He wasn't able to stop thinking about whatever the chills had been telling him about.

Gloria looked at him and he looked back at her.

"You should probably get going. It's getting late." She nodded in agreement. He offered to walk her home but she said she would be fine.

"You've done enough already," she said.

"Are you sure you're okay?" ha asked, wanting to make sure. She said she would be okay and would call her husband and let him know what had happened, with some cutting of details, naturally.

He had relented, not wanting to cause any more trouble than he had already. As she walked out of the store, he couldn't help feeling that there was _something_ about that particular woman, but he shook it off.

It was around nine o'clock at night when he went to the local bar. Normally he would never drink, but after what happened today he wasn't really in any other mood. The thought of having burning liquid coat his throat appealed to him. He entered the bar, asked for some scotch, and thought about how violence against women in this time hadn't changed as much as he thought. The bar had the local news going on and the news anchors were talking about what the weather would be tomorrow, but then he saw that there was a special bulletin.

"Today, at a little past four o'clock at École Polytechnique in Montreal, Quebec, providence of Canada, twenty eight people were shot and injured by Marc Lépine, a twenty-five year old who, from what we have heard, committed this atrocious act under the pretense of fighting feminism. He committed suicide after his last victim. As of yet…" The channel was switched.

Balthazar buried his head. So that was it. He was nowhere near Montreal and has still felt the pain of those women. He yelled into his hands. The other occupants looked at him but quickly looked away. They knew this was a place where people went when there were in certain moods and they didn't want to get into another's business. He called for another scotch. Sometimes, he really wanted to know what was wrong with the world, after that bulletin just proved how sick the world really was. Violence has always been around in his life but there used to be something for it. Now, there was violence for the shear reason of fighting against woman's rights and virtues. He didn't see the need for it and he really hoped in the future that people would fight it.

Because he would fight it each and every day and he would continue to serve his quest to find the Prime Merlinian as well. More importantly, though, he would never forget the feeling in his chest or on his neck or on his hand ever in his life. He sipped his scotch knowing that another day would come. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't see some good in the world.

Maybe he shouldn't be all gloom and doom considering that there was always hope. If anything there was always hope, kids, and the Prime Merlinian.

**AN: Thank you for reading this story, and I know it is a long one-shot. But I really did not want to make this a multiple chapter. Please review, and remember no flames. Constructive criticism, however, is allowed and needed! Please be frank! I want to improve as a writer! Thank you so much, and normally I really do not write this dark, but this was a serious issue and I really couldn't approach it any differently. Please understand. Thank you!**


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